


God of Loneliness

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Being Izaya Is Suffering, Character Study, Childhood Trauma, Introspection, M/M, Past Child Neglect, Self-Hatred, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: He hated being Orihara Izaya.
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya
Comments: 5
Kudos: 91
Collections: Durarara!!





	God of Loneliness

_God of Loneliness_

How many times had he heard the whispers and glares that with his eyes, he would destroy those most precious to him? That with his dark hair and feminine face, that he was a demon in disguise?

That nothing good would come of him?

The last sentence had been his grandparents’ favorite. How Orihara Shirou had such superstitious parents that they were afriad of their grandson because of his red eyes remained beyond his comprehension. _“Nothing good will come of you or those eyes,”_ his grandmother Natsu would whisper to him as his tiny four-year-old hands pleaded with her to play with him. He didn’t understand, even with many years of experience, of why he was often alone. He had heard from his grandmother that even as a baby, his mother and father would leave him with strangers.

Alone. How Izaya knew the word’s meaning more than most. He understood, by observing his classmates even in first year primary school at Raira, that most children weren’t left alone. They always had someone by their side, laughing friends or a doting grandmother or father.

Their mothers were always around.

The large red backpack filled with schoolwork to be completed together with his parents was ominously heavy to six-year old Izaya as he walked home, solitary in his thoughts and in reality as he remembered the entrance ceremony with proud parents and beaming grandparents. The little boy walked home, the dark hair hiding the sorrow in his red swollen eyes as screaming children ran home.

Home.

Even then, Izaya knew home was a place where people wanted you. But with no one there, with only stillness and forgotten toys and stale frozen meals left by his parents and grandparents, where was home?

Izaya didn’t even know he was crying until he looked at the mirror, the should-be-smiling face staring morosely back at him. He looked older than six years old.

Mairu and Kurui would never let go of his hand as he walked them to and from school. He remembered of how he attempted to take care of two babies that desperately needed his care and attention as they cried and screamed. There were so many days that Izaya felt…almost dissociation from his body, as if his soul was dissipating by each time his twin sisters needed to be bathed, fed, burped, and their diaper changed.

Izaya wasn’t a very good brother. He wasn’t even certain what he was doing. His grandparents would take care of the twins in the mornings when he was at school, and leave the twins by the time he arrived, panting from another day at school.

It didn’t seem to matter that he was a very good student, one with many awards and eventually became a member of an important sounding club. It didn’t matter that his teachers sent glowing letters, from the first year of primary school the sixth, praising him and telling that their son would reach achievements. When the glowing letters stopped after the first year of junior high, there were no questions, no concerns, and no acknowledgements.

It was as if Izaya didn’t exist.

He wasn’t a child anymore, but sometimes he felt as lost and lonely as he did then.

It wasn’t as if Izaya was sociopath. Or insane. He had looked up the words too many times to know the definitions. He remembered of how relieved he was that the CT and MRI scans came back without any abnormalities – as if to prove that he was a human being. That there was nothing wrong with him.

Despite Kida-kun’s look of rage and the distance between himself and his beloved humans.

Beloved…what that truly it? He felt like a devil sometimes, out of control of his actions…as if some part of him was burning away of what he truly desired, leaving only poison and ashes of bone and stains of blood in his wake.

He knew that emotionally neglected children or children from horrifically abusive situations developed mental disorders.

But… _“My upbringing was fairly normal.”_

He was human.

Even though Izaya didn’t feel like one. Ever since he had been a child, the human interactions had fascinated him and puzzled him at the same time. No matter how hard he reached, the grasp of openness and affection didn’t truly reach him, and they didn’t feel any affection for him either.

It was like he was a marble statue, interesting enough to look at, but not the softy pulsing flesh of a human.

He didn’t think of toying with humans as his goal. People thought of him as evil, as unworthy of life, that no one would mourn him as he met the end that he deserved, but in truth – Izaya was simply amused ~~happy joyful sad~~ that they would even acknowledge his existence.

It was pathetic, really. His family didn’t give him enough attention and so he was a child, shouting, “Look at me, look at me!”

He had read it in a textbook somewhere. Social detachment disorder. Or maybe, just a stifled introvert that never had a healthy relationship with emotions, so he constantly pissed people off to get a reaction.

If Valhalla was real…if any of the afterlives he spent time studying was real, then how would people react? Would they beg to have another chance? Would the girls who many accused him off indirectly killing through suicide realize that their pain would just continue, and thus it was enough to simply be alive?

Izaya knew he destroyed lives. He deserved all the hatred aimed at him. There would only be hell waiting for him in the end, despite being terrified of death.

It was better to look at others’ reactions, see how they despaired, raged, and cried, rather than look at his own.

For Izaya could never handle emotions. Or attachments in general.

Even so, the loneliness haunted him. He wanted love so badly, but why did no one love him and yet…they loved monsters? How sad, to be jealous of a monster.

It wasn't as if he deserved loved anyway. 

So then…why was he so fascinated ~~in love in love human love~~ with Heiwajima Shizuo?

Izaya hated being Orihara Izaya.

He wished that he didn’t exist.

**Author's Note:**

> I might turn this into a multi-chapter story, but this itself is as far as I can write now.


End file.
